It's an unusually hot July night. I'm lying in bed - alone. Listening to soft music, eyes closed, naked. Air from the nearby fan caresses my hot skin. We spent the day together, then had to take our separate ways home. Now the memories are filling my head and I smile to myself. The day was beautiful, albeit short, as is any time we spend together. I glance in the mirror across from the bed - my long blond hair has fallen across the pillow - wisps of hair occasionally get caught in the breeze from the fan. My skin is glowing from being in the sun.
I reach over to the lamp and turn it off. The room remains dimly lit by the yard light outside my window. I stare at the shadows on the ceiling for a few minutes before closing my eyes again. I see your face in my mind as I last saw it, drawing away from our kiss goodbye. I imagine that I can feel your arms holding me tight to your body, your lips are on my shoulder . . . and how it takes my breath away. I want to pull you close to me and never let you go.
Resting my hand on my stomach, I feel the heat that radiates from my body. In my twilight sleep I imagine that you are here - next to the bed - you're watching me. You're leaning against the headboard, one hand touching my head, fingers slowly slipping through the length of my hair . . . Taking a deep breath I slowly exhale, relaxing into the mood that's easing over me. You whisper to me and I respond to your bidding. Moving my hand slowly up to the swell of my breasts, lightly grazing my fingertips over my nipples, the response is quick. My hands continue to my neck and into my hair. I stretch, arching my back, stretching my tired muscles. My hands make their way back downward, pausing at my breasts and awakening my barely concealed passion. Nipples responding again to my caresses. You murmur your approval . . . I continue to caress my breasts, exciting my nipples with one hand, while the other hand trails down my body to my inner thighs. I part my legs slightly, allowing just enough room for my fingertips to slip between them. Again you whisper your encouragement, and I'm losing myself in your demands. I will do whatever you ask me, whatever pleases you. I cannot describe exactly how this makes me feel, at first, self-conscious, then the exhibitionist in me slowly exerts herself and I find that I want to show you all you want to see. I want you to be pleased with the performance you command.